[𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄]
𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒
30 Months...
Almost three years since my accident. My first game playing pro in the NHL and I blew it. Many people have tried to help me but I'm past giving a fuck now. I just want to be left alone to drink my s...
please take care of yourself, this is a harsh chapter<3
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"You talked about what?"
"I know." I hum gulping down the warm liquid while keeping an eye on my little dinosaur.
Ellie's mouth gapes open in shock as she tries not to laugh. "You spoke about him jerking off when you were sat next to him while looking all cute like you are now. You know, with the flushed cheeks and everything" She motions to my face while I try to stop the heat from pooling there.
"Shelby you literally gave the man a reason to jerk off." She drawls laughing slightly and shaking her head.
"No I didn't." I protest but huff when I realise it's in her head now and never going to leave.
"You know Rosie came home that day saying Ronan was your prince charming." She grins wriggling her eyebrows.
"Really?" I cough to cover up the shock as I think about how that conversation could've probably gone down.
"Yeah it was so cute." She gushes looking over towards where Rosie is helping Lucas.
"Speaking of, i'm really worried about Lucas." I watch as he struggles to keep up with Rosie and my heart hurts. I just wan what is best for him, I want him to feel free and happy. I never want him to hurt for nothing.
Evanna looks confused so I continue, "I just - I think he should see a therapist again for his speech, development, trauma all of it. Everything."
"But he's doing so well Shelby." She looks proud as he managed to get one of the puzzle pieces right, his face searching for me until he smiles shyly before popping his thumb into his mouth.
"Yes he is." I nod my head agreeing with her. He has been making some really good progress. "But I don't want to leave it until he grows up to recognise that he should've had help and support now while he is still growing."
"If you think that is what is best." She smiles but her bottom lip wobbles. "God your such a good mom."
"Are you crying?"
"No." She denies even after tears start rolling down her face.
"You are, are you ok?" I ask reaching forward to squeeze one of her hands while my other reaches for a tissue.
